I.
In a child’s bedroom, in a suburb of Chicago, a chirpy Pegasus babbeh sleeps nestled in a Tupperware full of cottonballs.
He’s only a few days old, still hasn’t opened his eyes. He’s awake now, it’s early. The sun has just started warming him through the window. “Peep! Cheep peep!” He stretches his delicate little weggies out to greet the day, and starts scrambling around trying to move.
He is a very special foal. Kayleigh, the girl whose room this is, is a student at DePaul University. He is her Life Science’s assignment: to chart the development of a foal from infancy to adolescence. But the child entering the room is not Kayleigh. Kayleigh is at a Flute Competition.
This is her 13 year old brother Spencer. Spencer is, to be blunt, a bad kid. He’s mean. He’s angry. He’s hateful to those around him.
He’s also home alone today.
Spencer sits at the desk and gently tickles the brown foal. The chubby pegasus giggles and kicks his weggies with delight. What he wants is to smash it like a tomato. But he’d get grounded by his bitch mom. No, Spencer had a better idea.
Spencer got made fun of because he had soft features. He looks a lot like a smaller version of his sister, and it hasn’t helped his shitty attitude to be constantly reminded. Today, he is wearing a wig he picked out to resemble her hair. He’s wearing her makeup, her clothes, even her perfume. He’s been recording her voice in here for days.
He presses play.
“Hello little babbeh, are you ready for milkies?” His sister’s voice came from the speaker, grainy but audible. “Peep! Peep cheep!” He began grasping out for upsies, but no upsies came. Instead, he found the bottle coming down TO him.
Spencer didn’t want to touch it yet, and he hadn’t been watching his sister that closely when he spied on her. He didn’t know the procedure, but he also didn’t care. The babbeh was suckling slowly, as many babbehs like to do. They’re almost always exhausted when they’re this young.
Spencer was impatient, and so he squeezed the bottle. A pressurized jet of warm Foal Formula rammed into his mouth, blasting both down his throat and up out his nose. He coughed and made spitup, and Spencer had to stifle a laugh. Couldn’t break character.
He started playing the tape of all the mummah songs his sister sings. She really likes fluffies, amd she wants to keep this one after the assignment. Wants to name it when it’s big enough to learn.
Spencer thinks they’re dumb. They’re smelly and they talk funny and they break too easy. He doesn’t like them and they annoy the shit out of him so bad he can’t stand it.
He pinches the foal, hard, on the scruff of his neck.
“Peeeeep! Screeeeeeeepeeeeeeeeepepepeeeeeeep cheeeeep!” The babbeh is panicking. What is this? It hurts so much! Sabe babbeh! Spencer, meanwhile, gets the tiny sewing needle he brought and punctures his right front hoof, the one he’s constantly suckling like a fucking baby.
He gently grabs the leg so he can make sure he gets an even spread. The foal is shrieking now, hence why he had to wait for a day ALONE. And the plan only works because he hasn’t opened his eyes yet.
After putting a handful of holes in the bottom of the pad and an equal number around the sides, he roughly drops the foal back into the makeshift crib. Then he picks up the bulb of lime juice and spurts some on the babbeh. Blasts him right in the face, too. He spits and sputters it out if his mouth, but as it comes in contact with his wounded hoof, the pain is immense.
His shrieking reaches a peak now as his voicebox starts to strain and he begins to rasp. His hoof barely shows signs of injury now, due to how porous and floofy it is, but the acid still got in, and it’s soaked into his hoof! The pain won’t stop no matter how much he gives his hoof moufie huggies!
Finally, Spencer stows all his stuff. Discards evidence, and prepares the finale. He flicks the babbeh HARD in its chubby tummy and it shits and vomits IMMEDIATELY.
The pain and fear reach the point that his eyes flap open. “M…mummah! Owies! Nu huwties! Hewp!”
He sees a blonde hoomin with long hair and a low cut top. The hoomin smells like lilac and berries, and her voice is the voice of mummah! This is mummah!
“That’s right honey, mummah is here.”
Pinch.
“Owwwies! Screeeee!”
“Mummah is here.”
“Huuuuuuu fankyu mumm-”
Pinch.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
II.
Kayleigh was disappointed in her third place finish, but she was sure she could tighten her performance up by June. As she returned home, she was looking forward to the cute little foal she was caring for. She was going to name him Oliver, juuuust as soon as he opened his eyes and called her Mummah!
Her life had been stressful, so an uncomplicated babbeh is just what she needs.
As she sets her things down, she looks to her desk and sees a sleeping foal, breathing softly. His ribs rising and falling. She walked over and gently stroked his belly fluff. Without waking, he softly hugged her finger and cooed in his sleep.
“Hey buddy, mummah’s home.”
His reaction was swift. He sat up in an instant and started scrambling to escape, looking all over for a path. “Nuuuuu! Nu mummah! Nu gif wowstest huwties! Babbeh nu wam owwies!” He was shitting and pissing on himself and his hoof still hurt so bad it made him dizzy.
Mummah tried to grab him, but he was too slick and squirmed loose. It took about a minute for her to corner him on the desk. Most of her focus was on keeping him from jumping down and dying. Pegasi traditionally lack a fear of falling.
He looked up with fear, now more able to see with his rested eyes. It was surely his tormentor from before, he was sure of it. Smelled and sounded the same.
"Pwease nu gif owwies tu babbeh, babbeh nu knu wat du wong! Mummah onwy gib owwies! Babbeh wan wun way!" He pouted and cried quietly into his fluff. The shocked woman tried to hug him, but he started screaming pleas for mercy.
III.
A week had passed, and the assignment was done. Kayleigh was heartbroken with how afraid her foal was. Maybe she just wasn’t cut out for raising a babbeh?
But now she was done researching. So what to do?
He’d grown into a chubby big babbeh, but whenever he saw her he’d run and hide. No amount of niceness was able to overcome this reflex. She didn’t know what to do.
Luckily, her brother had an idea. He was usually a little creep, but in this case he really came through. He told her about a shelter run by counsellors that specialize in traumatized fluffies. She just had to bring him there the next day! She went to sleep content that her babbeh would be healthy and happy soon.
Which is why she didn’t see Spencer sneak in using the key copy he made.
Didn’t see him approach the cardboard box where Oliver was sleeping. He was bigger, but still a babbeh. About the size of a 4 month old toddler. Delicate, too.
Spencer carefully and quietly tore a gap in the box. He made sure it was right in front of Oliver’s face, then he pulled an ice cube out of his pocket and set it on the thickest part of Oliver’s fluff: The top of his head. Then, without so much as a word, he left.
Ten minutes later, water was dripping into Oliver’s nose. He made biggest sneezies, and when he opened his eye, he saw it! There was a hole in his sorry box!
Cold and soggy, he nuzzled the gap until he squeezed through and found himself on the desk. Looking down at the floor, he psyched himself up. He jumped and landed pretty quietly, but it hurt his weggies. He yelped, and then the worst happened! He heard mummah!
“Zzzhn, wh…wha? Wuzzat? Hoozere?”
“Nuuuuu! Babbeh wun way! Gu wun way be safe fwum meanie mummah! Nu catch babbeh!” The terrified little puffball bounded towards the slightly open door, ignoring the pain in his back, the sting of his Hurtie Hoof, which still hadn’t healed.
There! The wall goes away, but there’s no rail yet! As he reaches the top of the stairs, he has pause. His wings didn’t save him from hurties when he escaped Meanie Box, would they now?
Before he could decide, mummah made the call for him. She burst out the door. “Wait! Oliver, stop!”
He gasped. She’s here! No! Not when he’s so close! He gulps, spreads his wings, and takes a running leap down the stairs.
He lands four steps down, bouncing an average of three steps per bounce, totaling 14 steps. As he rolls on the landing, he’s stopped by thr wall where he impacts with a wet slapping sound.
Blood, piss, and shit are everywhere. Bones are sticking out. One of his eyes is falling out of his head. And even now, the horrible monster he called “mummah” was pursuing!
She got down close and picked him up! He was sure the munstah was going to make him a nummie babbeh!
Kayleigh was crying. “Oliver! Oliver, please! Say something! Mommy loves you, please!” His eyes creaked open, and a bloody tooth fell from his lips.
“M…mummah…wub babbeh? Nu…nu wan gif huwties?” Kayleigh was bawling. “Yes! I love you! I never want to hurt you! Oh God, Oliver, mommy loves her special boy! You’re my bestest babbeh!”
A weak smile crossed his face.
“W…eawwy?”
She can’t speak anymore, only nod. Sobbing, she clutches him close. Finally, she hears him. “B…abb…babbeh wub…wub mumm…ahhhhhh…”
Wavering through tears, she croons. “Mu…mummah wubs bestest babbeh…”
Then she feels it. Two little stubby legs, one on either side of her sobbing face. And she felt them squeeze her softly. “Nu cwy, mummah…babbeh…babbeh wub bestest mummah…babbeh…w…wub…”
And with that, he was gone.
IV.
Spencer had been in the hallway watching through the bannisters. The glee he’d felt before was gone, replaced by something…something else. He felt sick, like he was going to vomit. He wasn’t weak or queasy, but his gut was just rebelling. He went to his room and quietly locked himself in his half-bathroom where he could retch in peace.
My god. It…it talked. It didn’t just make noises, it spoke. It saw his sister crying and…and wanted to help. Even thinking she’d hurt it so bad it ran itself TO DEATH escaping.
He’d killed that. He’d tortured and killed that.
Spencer vomited again. He could hear his parents comforting his sister downstairs. In his room, locked in a bathroom, Spencer cried harder than anyone.